The Beast
This world once sang to me, now I cry to it as a beast. Upon its floor, I awake to the morning, embarrassed of what I may have done and what I will do when the night falls. In human flesh, the creatures of the day greet me; they scamper, not away nor toward, but willingly among me. Even in my tattered clothes, they know I am no danger to even the frailest.
I couldn't hurt another if I tried, yet my blood boils as the sun wanes to the moon. My teeth grind at the thought of feeding a foreign hunger as it takes o'er me. For moments, outside and in between, I cringe at my desire as unwanted.
I am no longer lucid as I lust...
I am no longer...
As I slip to the back of my own mind, mine eyes are the only remains of my soul. A cinema of tragedy on display. A lack of control. An urge to give in to inhibition.
I just let this happen as I watch the screen of my life pick up the pace and tour this now forsaken land. By leaps and bounds, I've found a scent. I wish for a taste. I yearn for the flesh. I rise to the challenge and make my way into the gauntlet.
My actions are stifled by the hunt of another. I show my prowess, my talent, my brilliance and he graciously backs down. I may have this all to myself. I will keep this for myself.
I will buy her a drink.
